


Innocent

by stylesoftheshire



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Crimes & Criminals, M/M, Murder, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesoftheshire/pseuds/stylesoftheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the body of his ex-boyfriend is found in his back garden, Harry’s whole world is tipped upside down. The case is handed over to Detective Louis Tomlinson, an investigator determined to redeem himself after the mistake that cost him a year’s suspension. As all the fingers of blame point to Harry, Louis can’t help but feel that the man is innocent – but is he just falling into the same trap as last time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> another chaptered fic originally from my tumblr and in progress yo

Harry stood catatonically in the corner of the room, slowly banging his head against the wall. His mind was blank, wiped clean by the shock of the nightmare he had fallen into. 

There were so many things he should have been feeling – confusion, anger, sorrow – but he was numb to it all. The abnormality of the situation had nestled in his mind instead and stunned him out of any other emotion.

Save for one – amusement. It was a strange feeling to have given his situation, but it was one that was easy to handle as it sat like an imp in the darkness. It only stayed for a moment, but it was welcomed. The root of it came from something he had said that very morning, completely unaware of where the day would take him.

-

‘What a brilliant day!’ Harry exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air and embracing the sun foolishly. ‘I mean, what are the chances that we get given half the day off when the weather is like this? It’s like I have a guardian angel watching over me,’ Harry sighed happily, unlocking his car for both himself and Niall.

‘What kind of angel gives people food poisoning?’ his friend laughed, slipping into the passenger seat.

‘The kind that is familiar with dickhead bosses, that’s what kind,’ Harry smirked as he began the drive to Niall’s flat. 

Harry’s frivolous mood was certainly infectious and soon both were riding on the same high, speeding delightedly through the streets of London.

‘Did you want to come in for a few beers or something?’ Niall asked, as they pulled up outside his building.

‘At eleven o’ clock in the morning?’ 

His friend shrugged in response. ‘What else am I going to do for the rest of the day?’

‘You could come help me with my vegetable patch. My carrots are looking a bit shit recently, think I need to change the soil…’ Harry began, trailing off when he saw the look of scepticism on Niall’s face. ‘What? It’s relaxing! And I like cooking with what I’ve grown myself, it’s rewarding. Hell knows my job isn’t.’

Niall raised an eyebrow and patted him on the shoulder condescendingly.

‘Sorry, Alan Titchmarsh, I still choose Tesco and alcohol over getting filthy for a few cabbages,’ he retorted, getting out of the car.

‘Oi!’ Harry reached over to wind down the window before yelling out, ‘It’s carrots!’ 

He chuckled, returning the hand gesture his friend replied with heartily before pulling away.

Once he reached his own house, Harry immediately went out to his garden, pulling his gardening gloves on as he went. Gardening had been recommended to him by a friend, an ex-girlfriend actually, when he was going through an especially rough time and he had been addicted to its therapeutic effect since. 

He lugged a fresh bag of soil over to his vegetable patch, hoping that it would perk up the wilting leaves he could see poking out through the dirt. He began to shovel the old soil from around his precious carrots into a wheelbarrow, whistling happily as he dug.

Harry only paused in his work when his shovel hit something hard and swiftly dropped to his knees to move whatever rock or old potato was preventing him from getting his job done. He scrabbled about through the earth until he found the source of the trouble and attempted to tug it out, but it didn’t budge. He couldn’t make out what it was through his thick gloves and the remaining layers of soil, so he returned to his shovel and shifted some more out of the way.

That was when Harry saw it.

The ground came toward him and then the world went black.

-

When Harry came around he was lying on his sofa with several cushions propped up behind his head. His heart was thumping rapidly, but he wasn’t sure why. 

Must have had a bad dream.

Just as he was about to roll over and go back to sleep, he was startled into full awareness by the slamming of his own back door.

He sat up quickly and came face to face with Niall looking absolutely distraught.

‘Harry! You’re awake, finally,’ he cried, pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug.

To say Harry was confused was an understatement.

‘Why are you here?’

Niall bit his lip and dropped his eyes to his lap. 

‘You don’t remember?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Remember what?’ Harry pressed, concerned by the distress etched into Niall’s face. 

Niall clenched his fists and took a shaky breath, steeling himself before he spoke.

‘Well, I came round about an hour ago to surprise you, you know help with the carrots? I let myself in with my key, but you didn’t answer me when I was calling for you so I figured you had your iPod in.’ He paused for a minute, gathering his wits. ‘When I went out to the garden you were just lying on the ground and I thought – I thought you were dead, Haz.’

His voice had dropped to a whisper and Harry felt his heart ache with affection for the boy in front of him.

‘Don’t worry, mate, I’m not dead. See? I’m fine,’ he smiled reassuringly, rubbing his friend’s arm. He frowned when Niall flinched away from his touch.

‘That’s not it, Harry. When I got closer I –‘

Niall was cut off by a loud voice and the squeaking of wheels.

‘Make way!’

Harry leapt off of the sofa frantically.

‘Who the fu–‘. 

He fell silent abruptly. Two men were pushing a gurney through his living room, a black body bag strapped to the top.

It felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room and replaced with shards of ice as Harry tried to find his breath. 

There was a dead body in his house. 

He turned on weak legs back to Niall, but he had his back to him and was looking out of the living room window. Harry followed his gaze, feeling faint at the sight of the police cars, vans and ambulances parked haphazardly along his street. His question was answered before he opened his mouth.

‘They found Ryan in your garden, Haz.’ Niall’s voice was soft and dazed.

Harry’s head started to spin in a sinister frenzy. His nightmare – or what he thought had been a nightmare – came flooding back to him, viciously overriding his senses. 

All he could see was the too familiar haunting grey face that had stared unseeing at him from the ground. 

All he could smell was the soil that surrounded him as he collapsed next to the body before plummeting into unconsciousness. 

All he could taste was the bile that now rose up in his throat. 

But worst of all, the only thing he could hear were the words he last heard from the man who was now being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

‘ _We can still be friends_.’

-

It took a while for Harry to realise that Niall had wrapped his arms around him closely, but it wasn’t long until they fell away and moved him to face the sound of approaching footsteps.

‘Are you Harry Styles?’ 

Harry found himself standing in front of a strong looking police officer, seriousness carved into his features, but with a hint of kindness in his brown eyes. He seemed trustworthy.

‘I-I am,’ he stammered, his voice cracking.

‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Payne. Now, your friend informed us that you were most likely digging in your garden when you discovered John Doe, but – ‘ 

‘Who’s John Doe?’ Harry interrupted.

The detective looked like he may have smiled if the situation weren’t so grim.

‘Mr Styles, John Doe is the name we give to unidentified victims.’

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but felt Niall tighten his grip on his arm painfully and he hesitated.

‘Do you have something to say, Mr Styles?’

He cast a sidelong glance to Niall who was staring at him with wide eyes like he was trying to tell him something, but Harry was at a complete loss as to what. To be fair, he felt at a complete loss to everything that was going on around him today.

‘Mr Styles?’ DCI Payne was starting to sound impatient, and if it was one thing Harry did know, it was to not annoy the police. Especially now.

‘I was going to say that he’s not a John Doe. His name is Ryan. Ryan Black.’ He hoped he sounded braver than he felt – just saying the name out loud drained him, making him dizzy.

It was when he saw the detective’s mouth set in a firm line that he realised why Niall was attempting to warn him. The eyes that had before seemed vaguely welcoming, even under the circumstances, had turned cold and hard.

‘How do you know this man?’ he asked quietly. Harry suddenly felt very small under the scrutiny.

‘Ex-b-boyfriend,’ he stuttered. He felt a raw squeeze around his heart as he acknowledged their relationship and blushed lightly at the raise of DCI Payne’s eyebrows – not many people expected him to be gay. 

‘In that case, Mr Styles, we have even more reason to bring you in for questioning.’

‘Qu-questioning?’ There was no point hiding the fear in his voice now. What the hell was going on?

‘Given that the body was found on your property and you have had previous relations with the victim, you are our prime suspect.’

The walls started spinning inward again, sucking the moisture from the room, leaving his mouth dry and unable to speak. How could anyone think that he could kill anyone, let alone someone he once thought he loved? 

Niall was plainly just as incredulous as he was, the defiance and disbelief unmistakable in his voice as he spoke up angrily.

‘And what the fuck are you actually charging him for?’ 

The detective’s eyes swivelled toward him and then back to Harry, clearly used to these kinds of outbursts. He flipped his notebook shut smartly and tucked it back into his pocket.

‘Murder.’

-

That’s how Harry ended up here, in a small bleak interview room. His last glimpse of the outside world had been of Niall, gaping at him desperately looking as lost as Harry felt. Before he knew it, he was on the wrong side of a Metropolitan Police Service station, wishing he were still just walking past it curiously like on any other day.

DCI Payne had gestured to one of the chairs at the table and told him to wait for the detective who would be in charge of the case, but there was no way Harry could just sit still. 

At first, he walked the perimeter of the room, trying to occupy himself with something other than the hell he had woken up to. When he realised that there was nothing to distract him he stopped short and leant his head against the wall, bracing himself for the images that were sure to infect his thoughts.

But that’s when Harry’s mind did a marvellous thing – it went blank. 

None of the horror from earlier came to him, instead there was just black and for once it was comforting. Shock let him protect himself from the onslaught that he knew would one day catch up with him, but right now he didn’t care. 

For now he needed to remain steady. If someone was about to pry into his life, Harry couldn’t let his unruly emotions get in the way. Now was not the time to grieve over his loss – they would sense weakness and prey on it or even turn it against him. DCI Payne had already made it clear that he thought he was guilty and he had to be as strong as possible if he was to convince the other detectives otherwise. 

Harry was so caught up in counting the soft thumps of his head against the wall that he didn’t hear the door open and close. 

‘Harry Styles?’

Harry’s head ricocheted off of the wall particularly hard as he whirled around, startled by the chipper raspy voice that bounced around the room.

When his eyes found the source, the enormity of his situation became very obsolete, very fast. 

Harry couldn’t stop himself from drinking in the sight of the man in front of him. His white button down shirt was stretched tight across his body, right up until the few buttons below the collar where it opened up to reveal tanned skin with a few chest hairs peeking out teasingly. 

If that wasn’t enough to make Harry forget himself, the man had also adorned himself with a pair of black suspenders that clearly held no functional purpose seeing as his trousers were definitely tight enough to stay up on their own. These, too, were black and clung to every possible inch of skin, from the healthy bulge of his groin to the full thighs below the hips which canted slightly to one side as he waited for Harry to respond.

‘Mr Styles?’

The voice shook Harry from his venture and he lifted his gaze cautiously, immediately feeling giddy when their eyes met.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Louis Tomlinson and I’ll be in charge of your case.’

Fucking great.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Tomlinson. Walk with me.’

Louis doubled back on himself to keep up with his superior, who was already speeding back down the corridor. 

‘Can I help you, Sir?’ he asked, trying not to sound too out of breath.

‘It’s more how I can help you, Tomlinson,’ DCI Payne stated, marching past the other officers going about their daily business.

Louis furrowed his brow. ‘Sir?’

‘I think I have a case for you. It may be time for you to prove yourself.’

‘ _Really_?’ Louis had been on paperwork for a month now after a year’s suspension and he was dying to get his teeth back into something juicy. ‘Sir, I can’t thank you enough for the opportunity! What’s the case?’

‘Body in the back garden – pretty open and shut if you ask me. I just thought I’d give you something easy to get you back in the game. Detective Superintendent Cowell isn’t quite as keen as I am, but I have faith in you, Tomlinson.’

Louis could barely curb his enthusiasm. The usual bounce in his step tripled, earning him a few strange looks from the other detectives. ‘Oh, Sir, thank you so much for this. I promise I won’t mess things up again!’

‘I’m sure you won’t, Detective. Now, if you just step inside my office for a moment we can discuss the finer details before I take you to the suspect.’ DCI Payne indicated the room they had come to a stop in front of.

As soon as DCI Payne closed the door behind him, Louis jumped into his waiting arms, a grin splitting his face in two as the professionalism was left in the hallway.

‘Liam, I fucking love you!’ he exclaimed.

‘Steady on, Lou,’ Liam laughed, squeezing him around the waist before setting him back down on the floor.

‘How the hell did you manage to convince Simon? I was sure he’d have me doing office work for the next year! Oh my God, can you believe it? Holy shit, Liam! I’m back on the beat! Back to hitting crime in the nuts! Back to fighting with Lady Justice at my side! Back to dealing the-‘ he babbled relentlessly until Liam rested a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

‘Chill out, Lou or I may have to rethink my decision,’ he said playfully, knowing full well that he couldn’t take this away from his best friend. 

‘You wouldn’t do that to me though, would you, babe?’ Louis teased, slapping him lightly on the side of the face. ‘Now tell me more about this case!’

Liam tried to fix him with a stern look, but the childish glee that bubbled in front of him was infectious, and he gestured toward the spare seat at his desk.

Louis raised an eyebrow at him as if the pure notion of sitting still was utterly preposterous.

‘Suit yourself. Well we got a call about a body being found in the caller’s friend’s back garden this morning. The proprietor was found unconscious next to the body and even though the friend insisted that he had most likely just passed out on discovering the body, it seems somewhat suspicious.’ 

‘Doesn’t seem like much to go on for you to bring the guy in here,’ Louis said dubiously.

‘Well, he also knew the victim,’ DCI Payne shrugged. ‘We’re still waiting for forensics, but I bet your bottom dollar that we’ll pull something on this guy.’

Louis had a bad feeling about this, but he had to snatch his chance to get back to real detective work. 

‘Okay, I’ll give him a grilling. Interview room 2?’ he asked over his shoulder, already heading out and eager to get started.

‘That’s the one,’ Liam nodded. ‘And one more thing, Lou.’ 

Louis’ hand hesitated on the door handle, sure of the warning that was about to follow. ‘Mmm?’

‘Behave yourself.’

‘It won’t happen again,’ he promised, smiling as some of the tension left his friend’s shoulders.

‘Good. Now off with you, Tomlinson,’ Liam smirked, the formality returning as Louis opened the door to the bustle of the police station.

‘Have a good day, Sir,’ he replied with a wink.

Louis tried his very hardest not to skip his way to the interview room, but in the end he couldn’t resist doing a jig when he was stood outside the door. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself before he went inside; he was no good as a detective when he felt like a schoolgirl going to prom. Adjusting his suspenders he pushed open the door, immediately feeling deflated as he saw the seat at the table empty. He was about to turn back around to check the other rooms when he heard a soft thump and turned his attention to the left-hand corner. 

He would have laughed if it weren’t such a serious situation. It was interesting to see how different people dealt with being accused of crime and it was no less amusing to see a man banging his head against the wall repeatedly. He shut the door behind him quietly, hoping not to disturb the guy until he was ready. He liked to have his fun. 

‘Harry Styles?’ 

The man in question spun around so quickly it looked like his legs were going to fail him and Louis had to clench internally to stop himself from giggling. His natural immaturity wasn’t helped by the fact the suspect’s eyes instantly focused somewhere south of his waist.

‘Mr Styles?’ he repeated, trying to get his full attention.

That was a mistake. 

Green eyes clapped onto blue and Louis realised he was screwed.

-

Harry gulped loudly and edged toward the chair DCI Payne had offered him earlier. After DI Tomlinson introduced himself, he suddenly felt like he had all the more reason to prove himself innocent. He looked up curiously to where the detective was still stood by the door. There was something odd in the man’s expression, but Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it. At least, he was trying not to get his hopes up enough to put his finger on it.

‘Are you going to sit down too?’ he asked, immediately regretting it. This guy could be his only chance for redemption; he couldn’t afford to sound rude.

Luckily for him, DI Tomlinson was too occupied with whatever was bumbling around in his head to reprimand him and simply ran his hand through his hair before reaching for the seat opposite him.

He looked him in the eye as he sat down, and Harry found himself tilting away. There was no way he could stay coherent with such perfection less than a metre away from him. 

He wasn’t sure if the tension in the room was purely because he had been accused of murder, but the detective’s awkward cough hinted that he felt it too.

‘So, why don’t we start with a run through of how you found the body?’

_The body_. The body has a name. 

‘It’s just like I told DCI Payne. I was digging in my vegetable patch and my shovel hit something and when I moved more of the soil, I saw it- I mean, him. Then I blacked out and the next thing I knew, some blokes were wheeling him through my front room.’ 

It almost felt like he was telling someone else’s story.

‘I see. Some might say that you were actually digging in your vegetable patch to make room for the body,’ DI Tomlinson alleged, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them to fix Harry with an unnerving stare.

‘What? No! I was replacing the soil for my carrots.’ It all seemed so trivial now, but the detective’s eyebrow quirked up in mild interest.

‘Carrots?’ He gave a soft little laugh like he was having an inside joke with himself, trailing off once he looked back down at the file in front of him.

‘You like carrots?’ Harry asked hopefully. ‘Mine have been going downhill a bit though, I think I-‘

‘We’re not here to talk about your vegetables, Mr Styles,’ Louis chastised, though Harry didn’t miss the affability that lurked behind the seriousness.

‘Sorry, Detective,’ Harry apologised, not meaning it at all.

‘Right, I was told that you knew the victim beforehand?’

Harry swallowed thickly – he hoped DI Tomlinson wasn’t a homophobe. ‘Yes, that’s correct,’ he said, voice void of emotion.

‘Ex-boyfriend?’

Harry near enough choked on his own tongue. ‘ _What_? How did you – I mean, did you – c-can you tell?’

His heart started beating rapidly from its new settlement in his throat when the detective’s charming laugh chimed through the room. _Keep your cool, Harry_. 

‘What can I say? I guess I have radar for these things,’ he replied, the crinkle only leaving his eyes when he realised that he may have revealed too much about himself.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ Harry ventured, hoping that building a rapport with the man in charge of his case would help with it. 

Fortunately for him, Louis was caught off guard.

‘And what is that supposed to mean, Mr Styles?’ he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Harry leant forward, suddenly feeling more at ease. ‘Well, in my experience, a guy who looks like you and wears trousers that tight doesn’t often end up being straight.’ He hesitated before adding daringly, ‘At least, they’re not when I’m done with them.’

He smirked victoriously when he saw the flush rise up the detective’s neck.

‘Ahem, well, right. Anyway, back to business, _Mr_ Styles,’ he said, clearing his throat and putting special emphasis on the formality, subtly trying to draw the line. ‘Preliminary findings indicate that time of death was sometime yesterday afternoon. Could you tell me where you were?’

To be honest, Harry found it difficult remembering what he had for breakfast. With the added distraction of a devastatingly handsome man in uniform sat across from him, he knew it would take some time for his memory to kick in. He ran his hand through his curls slowly, not missing the way the detective’s eyes followed his movements. 

He could use that to his advantage. 

He let his hand fall to rest behind his neck and stretched just enough so that the hem of his t-shirt rode up to reveal the waistband of his boxers. His hand then slipped smoothly over his shoulder and down his long torso where it settled comfortably in his lap. 

Whether Louis noticed or not, his gaze didn’t leave the spot where Harry’s groin hid under the table until the suspect spoke again.

‘Actually, I was meant to meet Niall yesterday in the park up by the big library, you know the one? Well, he didn’t turn up so I just went for a walk through town and then I went home.’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing seemed out of place though,’ he added when he noted that someone must have broken into his house while he was out.

‘I see,’ Louis nodded, scribbling something down with his pen. ‘And is this the friend who called the police this morning?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one. We work together, but we’ve also been best friends since we were like eight or something.’ Harry smiled. ‘I trust him with my life.’ 

‘And do you trust him with murder?’

Harry nearly fell back off of his chair, wholly startled by the detective’s insinuation. 

‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ he demanded.

For the first time during the interrogation, it looked like DI Tomlinson was in control.

‘I mean, from what I hear, your friend – Neil, was it? – Well, it seems he was pretty adamant you had nothing to do with it. If you’re as close as you say, perhaps you confided in him that you killed your ex-boyfriend and he thought it might be a good idea to ring the police himself. He may have thought it was the perfect crime, because surely who would be stupid enough to ring in about a murder their best friend committed?’

Harry closed his eyes for a few moments. The rage in his gut had surfaced too abruptly and he _had_ to regain self-control. When he opened them, the detective was watching him smugly, agitatingly so.

‘First of all, it’s _Niall_ , not _Neil_ ’, he spat. ‘And second of all, don’t you fucking _dare_ call him stupid.’

‘I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, Mr Styles,’ DI Tomlinson responded coolly, finally seeming comfortable with the air between the two of them.

Harry breathed heavily through his nostrils, gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.

‘I guess you’re right, _Detective_ ,’ he countered, trying to inject as much condescension as he could into the last word.

‘I suggest you sort out your attitude before we continue,’ DI Tomlinson said casually before carrying on. ‘Now if you’re so protective of your friend, why don’t you tell me why he didn’t turn up for your little gathering yesterday?’

Harry was about to bite out a retort, but he stopped short. He actually had no idea why Niall wasn’t at the park and he had never thought to ask him. It couldn’t have anything to do with all this though.

‘I don’t know why he wasn’t there. Like I said, I had a wander through town afterwards and it must have slipped my mind,’ he replied levelly. ‘There was a guy swallowing swords outside Marks and Spencer which was pretty cool’ he added conversationally before he realised he wasn’t trying to befriend this detective anymore.

But the fates had a different plan altogether.

‘You mean, Antonio?’ 

Both men seemed astonished by the slip of the detective’s tongue, but Harry saw hope again and seized it.

‘Yeah, that’s the bloke. Pretty sick stuff, right?’

To his surprise, the detective had resumed his friendly stance and was smiling at him genuinely as though he had completely forgotten why he was talking to him in the first place.

‘He is awesome! Honestly, I thought it was bollocks at first but I felt the blade myself and— wait, why are you laughing?’ 

‘Sorry, it’s just— no, never mind,’ Harry chuckled.

‘No, go on, tell me!’ the detective insisted, dropping all authority with the childish whine.

Harry weighed up the pros and cons and before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth.

‘I was just going to say… I bet that’s not the first time you’ve felt the blade!’ And he fell into a fit of giggles again. 

Louis eyed him perplexedly for a moment until he caught on to the double entendre and the sound of their laughter filled the room like a melody, looking a lot like two twelve year old boys at the back of the classroom.

Then as if a switch went off, the detective snapped his mouth shut and his eyes widened in disbelief.

‘I think that’s all I need for now, Mr Styles,’ he said sharply, gathering up the files. ‘Someone will be along to show you out.’

Harry gaped after him as he fled the room, though he couldn’t stop his gaze from falling to the perfect behind that bounced as he went.

Strange.

-

Fuck, shit, wank, bollocks.

That did not just happen.

Louis shook his head to try and wrap his brain around the disaster that had been his first interrogation after over a year. He could not let this guy get to him, not when he was only just getting back in the game. He had to do as Liam said and _behave_ himself. 

And yet, as he made his way back to his own office, he couldn’t help but think that as catastrophic as it may have been professionally, it was probably one of the best interviews he had ever held.

No.

He couldn’t let himself think like that. This was a case. Not only was this a case, but this was his way back into Detective Superintendent Cowell’s good books after the cock up he’d made last year.

He sat down at his desk and set Harry Styles’ file aside for him to add more notes to later. That is all Harry Styles was – a case report.

With gorgeous eyes. 

And fantastic hair. 

And fuck those _dimples_ …

A timid knock drew him out of his taboo reverie and he looked up to see one of the lab rats hovering in his doorway.

‘Yes, Smith?’

‘D-detective P-payne wanted me to get these l-lab results to you, S-sir,’ the man stuttered, shuffling over to hand him the sheet of paper.

‘Thank you, Smith. Good work,’ he said encouragingly. 

The scientist answered with a shy nod of the head before scampering out of the room again.

Louis shook his head in amusement before scanning the page in front of him.

His insides constricted painfully.

‘Hair found on body positive match to Harry E. Styles.’


	3. Chapter 3

‘I never liked him anyway.’

‘Ed! That won’t help!’ Caroline admonished, swatting him with the back of her hand.

‘Oi! Don’t abuse me. El, help,’ Ed whined.

Eleanor raised her eyebrow at him. ‘Sorry, but she’s not wrong.’

‘Why?’ Ed asked, looking genuinely confused. ‘I just said that I didn’t like him, it’s not like I’m disrespecting his memory or anything.’

Caroline sighed, crossing her lean legs under the table.

‘Well, don’t go saying stuff like that when Harry gets here. I’m still not sure if he’s actually come around to the fact that Ryan is gone.’

Eleanor looked up from her nails to fix her with a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, he may be too wrapped up in this whole murder suspect thing to actually have time to grieve,’ Caroline explained, hushing her voice down. ‘I don’t really know how he’s taking this whole situation.’

‘Well he seemed fine on the phone,’ Ed offered, his mouth full of blueberry muffin.

Caroline sighed. ‘He hardly had time to go into depth on how he felt, seeing as he only stayed on the phone long enough to ask if we were free for lunch.’ She glanced around the small café. ‘Speaking of which, where’s Niall? I would’ve thought he’d be here by now.’

Ed shrugged. ‘He might be giving Harry a lift.’

‘Yeah, true. Well before they get here, I want to make a few things clear, okay?’ 

‘What makes you think you get control of this situation?’ Ed asked gruffly.

‘I just feel that as the oldest one here, I have a better grip on things. Besides, Harry and I used to date, remember? I know him pretty well so I can tell you that, firstly, telling him you never liked Ryan will _not_ make things any easier. Secondly, we are not going to bring up the situation at all unless he does so first. And lastly… just think before you speak, okay?’

‘Agreed,’ Eleanor nodded, flicking her long brown hair over her shoulder. 

‘I don’t appreciate that I was the only one you looked at when you said that,’ Ed huffed. ‘But yeah, fine, whatever.’

The tinkling of the bell above the door drew their attention to where Harry was moseying over to them, hands in his pockets and beanie pulled roughly over his hair, but looking no different than usual. He dropped into one of the empty seats at the table and looked around at each of them in turn. For a while it seemed no one was going to speak, but the tension got to Harry first. He let out a sigh and relaxed his shoulders, allowing a smirk to grace his face.

‘I’m not going to murder you if you talk to me, you know,’ he stated offhandedly, reaching for a menu.

Ed choked on his muffin as he laughed, spraying crumbs onto Harry’s face so it contorted into a combination of disgust and amusement. 

‘ _Ed_!’ Harry half grimaced as he brushed the debris from his chest. 

It didn’t last long before he burst out in giggles at how Ed’s skin had gone as bright as his hair and soon the whole table was caught up in a fit of mindless laughter, mostly fuelled by nervous energy. 

The group fell into easy conversation after that and Harry breathed easily with his friends around him again. He felt like he was back in reality, for now.

‘So where’s Niall?’ Eleanor asked after Harry had finished his panini. ‘I would’ve thought he’d be the first one here considering… w-well, you know.’

She blushed, stuttering to a stop as she realised she had almost brought up what had been specifically forbidden. Harry didn’t miss the stern glare Caroline shot her and raised an eyebrow at the pair. Caroline smiled sweetly at him as though nothing had happened and he let it go.

‘He said he had other things to do,’ he shrugged.

It was Ed’s turn to raise his eyebrow now. ‘Things more important than a celebratory lunch for his best friend who didn’t get 30 years of being leered at by gang members?’

‘Ed!’ Caroline exclaimed, slapping the back of his head.

‘Relax, it’s fine! It was going to come up sooner or later,’ Harry soothed, though he himself wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to approach the topic. ‘And I’m not sure what it is exactly Niall is doing, but this wasn’t intended to be a celebration thing. I just wanted to hang out with you guys.’

‘Still a bit weird to me,’ Ed mumbled. 

‘No, it isn’t, leave it alone,’ Eleanor said tersely, clearly regretting her earlier slip of the tongue.

And now that Ed had persisted, it did niggle at Harry a little and he bit his lip in thought. It was a bit odd that his oldest friend wasn’t here, especially after he ditched him in the park that day…

‘Harry?’

He was startled out of his thoughts and he turned to see Caroline looking back at him concernedly.

‘Are you okay?’

‘What? Yeah, I’m fine, Caz. I guess, well… you know.’

His friends smiled at him reassuringly. 

‘You know we’re here for you, mate,’ Ed said, nudging him lightly.

Eleanor nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, whenever you’re ready to talk about… everything, we’ll be here to listen.’

A warm glow filled his body as he absorbed the three earnest faces looking back at him.

‘Thanks, guys. It really mea-‘

‘Harry Styles?’

A firm voice interrupted him and he turned to see a police officer standing behind him authoritatively, hands on hips.

Harry gulped and the café started to whirl familiarly. 

‘We’d like to bring you in for questioning,’ he stated flatly.

Ed’s mouth fell open, bits of muffin falling into his beard.

‘Again,’ the officer added, a hint of dry amusement colouring his words.

The room didn’t stop spinning.

-

When Harry woke up, he allowed himself the brief moment of ignorance, pretending it had been yet another nightmare and he was finally free. It would have lasted longer had he not become uncomfortably aware of how cramped he was. He opened his eyes and blearily acknowledged the small leather sofa he had been laid on and took in his surroundings. He was in a regular sized room, dotted with filing cabinets, a desk and a somewhat flamboyant house plant. It looked like someone’s office. 

He sat up slowly and ruffled his hair out of habit, not noticing the cupboard to his left or the pair of inquisitive blue eyes that peered over the open door, amused that their presence had yet to be noticed. Louis almost didn’t want Harry to realise he was there at all, but he knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. He had already made the lab run the tests on the hair twice, but it was undeniably Harry’s. He quietly pushed the papers he had been arranging back into place on their shelf and took a step back, revealing himself. 

Harry jumped comically and Louis was reminded of their first meeting, almost bringing a smile to his face. He watched as Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair again, but when the shock in his pale features rearranged itself into something more like ‘ _hey, you’re that guy I want to fuck_ ’, Louis knew he had to reinforce his authority. Especially after their last interview.

‘I’m glad to see you’re awake, Mr Styles.’ He tried to keep his tone as even as possible, but his suspect’s charmingly crooked smile made it waver.

‘Call me Harry, Detective.’

He sounded far too confident for Louis’ liking.

‘I don’t think that a first name basis is wise considering the grounds for which you are here in the first place,’ he responded steadily. ‘The only reason you’re in my office is because our medics were certain you hadn’t sustained any real damage and bringing you here would make it easier for when we had to question you.’ 

He stepped around the sofa to collect the file, ignoring the burning he could feel as Harry’s eyes followed him and traced down his body to appreciate how he had bent over his desk. He straightened up quickly and caught the glint in his eyes.

‘Mr Styles, please appreciate the gravity of the situation. You are being accused of murder and all you’ve done since you’ve gotten here is gawk at me.’

Harry’s eyes widened like a schoolchild caught eating sweets in class and he dropped his gaze to his lap, mumbling an apology.

Louis tried to ignore how adorable his suspect looked with pink cheeks and curls falling loosely over his face, opting instead for straightening the collar of his shirt.

‘If you’ll follow me to the interview room we can get the ball rolling,’ he informed, before walking briskly to his door and holding it open for Harry to follow. 

He marched down the corridor, nodding his head curtly at his colleagues, hoping he looked as professional as he was trying to be. He looked over his shoulder when he was halfway there and noted that his suspect was lagging behind. He turned with his hands on his hips impatiently, not moving again until Harry got the idea and picked up the pace. If Louis put an extra sway in his hips in response to the lolloping footsteps he heard close behind him, he wasn’t going to admit it. 

He didn’t stop again until he reached their destination and turned to find Harry not a beat behind him, coming to an abrupt halt as he did. He stumbled over his obscenely large feet and mumbled what might have been another apology, but Louis was too preoccupied with getting this interrogation over and done with to pay too much attention. Now that he had Harry under control again, he didn’t want to lose face and end up engaged in more friendly banter.

‘Take a seat, Mr Styles,’ he said, waving his hand at the chair he had occupied just two days ago.

Harry ambled over cautiously, seeming to take special care of how he placed his feet, before lowering himself into the familiar seat.

Taking a leaf out of Law and Order’s book, Louis neglected his own seat and instead stood behind it, positioning his hands on the back so he could lean forward over the table. He hoped it would give the impression that he was the dominant one in this situation, given that he had noticed Harry loomed over him in height.

‘So, Mr Styles, I’m afraid it’s not looking good for you.’

Harry lifted his head curiously, and Louis was glad to see that the cockiness he had seen earlier had faded into sheepishness, which he didn’t find endearing in the slightest.

‘We got a match on the hair we found on the body,’ he continued, his eyes not leaving Harry’s face as it paled. There was a tiny part of him that hoped it wasn’t a reaction to guilt, but he shoved that aside. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of this case.

‘O-oh? Whose was it?’ His voice was innocent, but laced with defeat that Louis couldn’t help but feel shouldn’t be there.

He straightened up and folded his arms across his chest to make himself look as big as possible.

‘I think you know whose it was, Mr Styles. Do you think you could explain why your hair was found on the victim’s body?’

Harry shook his head fiercely, but the hair that swung in front of his eyes seemed to taunt him and he stopped.

‘No, I don’t think I can. Are you sure it’s mine?’

‘Believe me, I’m sure. I had it checked thoroughly,’ he said, flicking through the papers on the table.

‘How come?’

‘How come what?’

‘How come you had it checked thoroughly?’

Louis’ hand froze over the lab report, his mind whirring through reasons for wanting extra analyses, before he realised that he didn’t actually need a reason.

‘It’s my job to make sure all evidence undergoes meticulous investigation so as to not make any mistakes,’ he stated. It wasn’t like it was a lie.

‘Oh.’

Louis kept his eyes on the paper in front of him, not wanting to see the crestfallen expression that he could hear in the small voice that answered him. At least when his suspect was weak, he was strong. Or so he thought until the voice spoke up again hopefully.

‘Isn’t it possible that the hair was from when we were, urm, dating?’

Louis opened his mouth to disregard the prospect, but bit his tongue when the irritating little voice in the back of his mind told him to shut up and consider it. It was the same voice that had made him run multiple checks to begin with, not to mention the same voice that had told him he probably just had a kink for angel-faced criminals when he was having a wank last night. 

Now that he thought about it, it did seem plausible. After all, they had been in a relationship where they probably spent nights in each others’ homes, during which curls could have found their way woven into an old shirt or a hairbrush. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

‘How long ago did you and Mr Black split up, Harry?’

He raised an eyebrow when Harry didn’t answer him and instead just stared with wide green eyes. He leant over the table again.

‘Harry? Can you answer the ques—‘ 

Damn it. _Harry_. So much for the professionalism.

‘My apologies, _Mr Styles_ ,’ he amended. ‘When did you last see the victim?’ He was finding it difficult to maintain his hard exterior, particularly when his back ached from leaning.

Louis’ knees almost buckled when the man in front of him appeared to regress 5 years as he curled in on himself, bringing his feet up to rest on the chair so he could hug his knees. It was hard to believe that this was the same person who had made penis innuendoes with him in his first murder interrogation and it brought Louis around to sit in his seat properly. He suddenly felt like he was talking to a griever, not a potential murderer, and when he saw Harry’s long fingers trembling against his calves and the wetness clinging to his eyelashes, he recognised that maybe this was the case. Maybe.

‘Take your time,’ he encouraged, surprising himself with the softness in his voice.

It appeared that it startled Harry too and he jolted his head up to eye him warily. The movement made Louis jerk back involuntarily, not having been prepared to be hit full on with watery green eyes that made him forget the room around him and the reason he was here. It was probably this that had him reaching a hand across the table between them to pat the milky skin of Harry’s bare forearm. 

He almost sighed with relief when his ‘suspect’ didn’t flinch away from him, but when Harry’s fingers briefly curled over his he pulled away slowly. If anyone had been there to witness, he would have explained the contact as ‘building a rapport with the suspect so that information could be more easily attained’. It had worked in the past. Almost.

‘So, how long ago did you and Mr Black break up?’

Harry brushed his hands over his eyes quickly before clearing his throat and, when he spoke, Louis was surprised by how strong his voice was, despite his red rimmed eyes. 

‘We split up about a month ago,’ he started as the detective nodded receptively. ‘I saw him about a week later so we could, urm, exchange some stuff that we’d left at each others’ houses. And I think I saw him on the street last week, but that might just have been my i-imagination.’

Something in Louis’ chest wrung uncomfortably, but it was for two reasons, one of which not being empathetic. On the one hand was knowing exactly how it felt to fall for someone and find them in every face you saw, but on the other hand there was the unfortunate ability to recognise a route to a motive.

‘I take it that it wasn’t a mutual decision?’ he questioned.

‘I guess not. There wasn’t any real reason either, but we hadn’t been seeing each other that long,’ he paused as he did the maths in his head. ‘Six months.’

Louis would have quite liked to leave it at that, but unfortunately ‘Detective Inspector Tomlinson’ knew that the situation they were in was quite a binding one. He ignored the twitch in his arms that wanted to wrap around the man in front of him and continued, trying his best to not let his tone soften too much.

‘There must be some resentment there after six months, Mr Styles,’ he pushed unwillingly.

Harry’s eyes flashed with something that resembled both anger and hurt, but Louis stood his ground and stared him down.

‘No one could ever resent Ryan, Detective. He was the sweetest and most loving boyfriend I have ever had. I have no idea who wouldn’t want him around. He made my day by just being there and if I was ever down I knew I only had to go to him and he would make it all a bit brighter. Even after we broke up, he said we could still be friends and I knew he truly meant it even though we never actually got around to it.’ He took a shuddery breath. ‘And now we never will. He was nothing short of perfect and I—‘

‘That will do, Mr Styles,’ Louis cut in brusquely. To an outsider it may have looked like he was preventing digression and he would be more than willing to believe this if it weren’t for the jealously prickling unfairly at his spine.

Oddly enough, Harry looked somewhat relieved that he had been shut up and Louis was willing to bet that what he had just heard was the most he had spoken about his ex-boyfriend in a long time.

‘S-sorry,’ Harry murmured. ‘It’s just… I don’t think I could kill him even if I wanted to.’

And in that moment, even with the lab results clutched tightly in his hand, Louis believed him and the only prayer on his lips was that history wouldn’t repeat itself.


	4. Chapter 4

‘It was found in his teeth and it ma—’.

‘In his teeth? How would it have gotten in his teeth?’

‘Maybe he pushed his face down into the carpet before he delivered the blows.’

‘And who exactly is _he_?’ Louis challenged.

Liam looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and condescension. ‘You know who, Louis.’

‘No, I don’t, there isn’t enough substantial evidence to pro—‘.

‘Detective! How many times must I remind you th—‘.

‘Don’t call me _Detective_ , Liam! All we’ve got on this guy is a hair that could be weeks old and now some bloody carpet fibre that could be from any number of places!’

‘Well, it is blue…’

Louis rolled his eyes. ‘There are a lot of blue carpets in this city, not just Styles’! You’re so preoccupied with closing the case and marking it as a success in Simon’s books, that you’re forgetting about making sure you’ve actually got the _right guy_!’

‘Well I’m sorry if I’m not trusting _your_ gut instinct, considering what happened last time.’

‘Fuck off, Liam. I learnt my lesson, I’m not an idiot.’

Liam snorted. ‘Could’ve fooled me.’

Louis slammed out of the office without another word, not giving a second thought to how disrespectful he must look to his colleagues. 

‘Fucking prick,’ he muttered under his breath, marching down the corridor. 

He would probably get a rap across the knuckles for storming out like that, but Liam was used to his outbursts enough to not hold it against him too much, at least not where it mattered. As soon as he got inside his own office, he locked the door behind him not wanting to be disturbed. He slid down onto the floor, tossing the file to the side and pulling his knees up to bury his head.

Who was Liam to say his gut instinct shouldn’t be trusted? He knew he had fucked up, but surely he had paid his dues when he spent his yearlong suspension as a fucking waiter. He had never had to endure something so menial, but it had given him enough time to think about the mistakes he had made and Liam knew that. As his best friend he had been there with him, stopping in at the restaurant on his lunch-breaks to feed him stories of the latest cases to quench his thirst for action. Equally, he had been there when Louis wanted nothing more than to stay in bed and wallow in self-pity, pulling him upright and near enough dressing him.

Of course it all changed once they were both at the station. It was no wonder why Liam was the one in the higher position. It wasn’t like he was better at the job than Louis, it was more that Liam had a knack for knowing exactly what to do to get in the good books. Louis, on the other hand, only did enough to get the case solved, not caring if he was pissing off the man upstairs in the process. Fortunately, Liam was often there to smooth things over if he got sassy enough to make the bosses forget he was one of the best men on the job.

At least that’s what he was until he screwed things up a year ago. Now he was pretty sure Detective Superintendent Cowell just saw him as a liability, too risky to have out in the real world so he put him on a rookie case – or rather what he thought would be a rookie case. Now that Louis was actually involved, he didn’t think it was as simple as Liam was trying to make it.

He looked up from his arms and gazed around his office, his eyes falling on the sofa on which Har— _Styles_ had been laid out on after he had fainted. He wished he could say he wasn’t the one who suggested he be brought here, but he couldn’t. He also wished he could say he didn’t spend a good ten minutes watching his ‘suspect’ snooze gently, taking particular interest in the way his eyelashes fluttered. Most of all, he truly wished he could say he didn’t get the urge to pounce when Styles had rolled over slightly in his sleep, rucking up his t-shirt in the process to expose prominent v-lines and a spattering of hair.

Unfortunately, wishes don’t come true, but Louis thought he had mostly been able to maintain his professionalism despite a few hiccups. It just didn’t help when his suspect looked at him like he was a piece of meat. But no, Louis had learned from his past and he wasn’t going to be swayed by an attractive potential perpetrator who could endanger his career. 

What might be swaying him was the way Styles had looked up at him like an abandoned puppy, though he was sure that seeing anyone look so broken would stay his hand in accusing them. He had always thought of himself as being a good judge of character and his suspect’s face had just been raw with unchecked emotion, but no guilt.

He sighed and heaved himself up from the floor, grabbing the file. _Blue nylon carpet fibre found between maxillary central incisors_ was about all that he could understand before the page dissolved into a meaningless analysis of the fibre’s make-up. He knew it would be important, but right now all that mattered was getting a sample fibre to match against this one.

Time to pay Harry Styles a visit. 

-

An hour later, Louis found himself outside Harry’s house, nervously fiddling with the buttons on his suit jacket. He hadn’t brought himself to knock yet, having been too preoccupied with adjusting his hair and collar in the small window. It was only when he found himself checking his teeth for lettuce that he realised what an idiot he was being. He wasn’t a 16 year old boy picking up a date, he was a Detective Inspector collecting evidence for a murder case. With that thought in mind, he adjusted the bag on his shoulder and rapped smartly on the door.

It took about two minutes for Louis to hear the thump of something stumbling down the stairs and then a bleary face appeared behind the small pane of glass in front of him. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop the reflexive grin that was threatening to break out, made even harder when the tired green eyes widened comically. 

He took a step back as the door swung open to reveal a very sleepy and very nearly bare Harry Styles. It seemed the man in question was completely oblivious to the latter and Louis truly wished that he was as well. The stiff authority in his back melted away as he drank in the sight of Harry in his too-small boxers, sitting way too low on his hips and showing far too much thigh. His bag slumped off of his shoulder as his gaze drifted up Harry’s body, taking in the v-lines he had caught a glimpse of the day before and the lightly sculpted stomach that had been hinted at. 

He only spoke when something unusual caught his eye, completely forgetting the reason he was here in the first place.

‘Four nipples?’

There was a giggle in his throat as he said it, watching as Harry’s tired face slacked in disbelief before pulling up in amusement. He ran his large hands over his own body, rubbing his fingers against the extra nubs as he smiled back at Louis.

‘Are you here to arrest me because of my nipples, Detective?’ he teased.

His croaky morning voice wasn’t something Louis had prepared himself for. Thoughts of waking up next to the tempting body in front of him and hearing a hoarse whisper of ‘ _good morning_ ’ blinded him momentarily, making him lose sight of the purpose of his visit. He only remembered himself when he thought of how he would spend the night before making sure Harry’s voice was _especially_ rough, the subsequent rebellious twitch in his groin bringing him back to his body. 

He jumped a bit and blinked at the still smiling Harry as though he was only just becoming aware of why he was here, which wasn’t far from the truth. All three of his encounters with the man in front of him had left him temporarily thrown and the hours in between were filled with forbidden digressions from the case file that would sit in front of him. 

‘Are you alright, Detective?’

He also hated the way Harry said _Detective_ – he made it sound so… sexual. It certainly didn’t help with the kinky fantasies he’d had the past couple of nights.

Louis quickly pulled himself together and shrugged his bag back onto his shoulder, adjusting his tie so it was tight enough to keep his senses together. The slight choking was enough to knock the friendliness out of his voice. 

‘Yes, I’m fine, Mr Styles,’ he replied. He disregarded the malcontent settling in his stomach as Harry’s dimples faded at his stern tone. ‘And I’m not here to arrest you.’

‘Oh, okay, well c-come in,’ Harry stuttered, stepping aside to allow him to pass.

Louis nodded curtly, trying to ignore the guilt he felt from turning his mood so quickly. He stepped into the hallway, involuntarily brushing his arm against Harry’s bare stomach as he went. He had never been more thankful for sleeves. 

He stopped outside the door to what he assumed would be the living room to wait for Harry and tried not to breathe too deeply. He was sure that the smell of this house, something unmistakeably homey and masculine, would intoxicate him. He heard the front door shut and the shuffling of bare feet on the carpet, followed by a whiff of all that the house smelt like mixed with warmth that radiated from sleepy bare skin.

‘Is this the living room, Mr Styles?’ he asked, hand resting on the door handle already.

‘Yeah, it is,’ Harry mumbled. ‘I’m just going to, uh, put some clothes on.’

Louis had to bite his tongue to stop the protest from tumbling out, managing to turn it into a small sound of acknowledgement before pushing open the door. 

It was a fairly simple room with a few family photos hung on the walls, resisting the urge to step closer and examine them. He looked down to where his polished black shoes were sinking into the plush blue carpet and sighed. 

Liam’s face was clear in his mind, serious and encouraging, like an angel sitting on his shoulder. It was too bad that Harry’s face, sad and helpless, was there every time he blinked, fighting the angel from the other side of his head. Whose side was he on? 

He rolled his eyes at himself. He didn’t have a side, he had a _duty_ , and that was to solve this case. The outcome of its solution shouldn’t affect Louis any differently no matter what it was. Harry might be a murderer and he might not and, no matter how much the first option made Louis’ stomach turn, it was always a possibility and he _had_ to remember that.

He put his bag down on the sofa resignedly and pulled out what he needed. He was just crouching down with tweezers in one hand and scissors in the other, when he heard a soft sigh.

He jumped up and turned to see Harry standing in the doorway in a loose-fitting hoodie and jogging bottoms, watching him sadly.

‘You found something else, didn’t you?’ he asked quietly.

Louis blanked for a moment until he realised that he hadn’t actually explained why he was here. Something fluttered sillily inside him at the thought of Harry letting him into his house without any real reason, before he squashed it down and replied.

‘Yes, we found a carpet fibre on the bo- on Ryan,’ he said. He knew how insensitive it was to talk about the victim like an inanimate object to someone who knew them intimately. ‘It was a blue fibre and my superior informed me that your carpet was of the same colour, so I’m just here to collect a sample.’

Harry nodded in understanding, fiddling with the drawstring on his jogging bottoms. Louis took this as consent, fully aware that he had forgotten to bring a search warrant, and crouched back down on the floor. He snipped a small sample and transferred it to an evidence bag.

‘I got my house redecorated last week.’

The statement seemed irrelevant and Louis disregarded it as a poor attempt to get the amicable conversation that had once flowed between them going again. He began to scrawl details onto the bag when it clicked what Harry meant. He looked up to see him watching hopefully, still standing at the edge of the room.

‘Are you saying that you got the carpets redone, Mr Styles?

Harry smiled nervously, dropping the drawstrings to pull his hands up into his sleeves.

‘Yeah. I mean, not all of them, but I changed the living room carpet ‘cause it was getting a bit worn. It’s pretty much the same colour, but this one is… fluffier,’ he said, wiggling his toes into the material thoughtfully.

Louis nodded slowly, trying not to get his hopes up.

‘This means that if the fibre we found is not a match to these then it’s irrelevant to the case, ‘cause it could’ve been from when you guys were together,’ he thought out loud.

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Harry said, shuffling a little bit closer.

‘Well, we’ll know soon enough, Mr Styles. And when we know, you’ll know,’ he said, straightening up.

‘Yeah, ‘cause I’ll probably wake up in your office again,’ he replied flatly.

Despite the thoroughly stony way in which he said it, Louis could help but smile. There was something in the guy’s deep voice that made it sound like he was telling a very bad, sarcastic joke and it tickled him.

‘Ah, Mr Styles, my office isn’t that bad, is it?’

Harry looked at him slightly taken aback.

‘I-I guess not,’ he stammered. ‘You need a longer sofa though.’

‘Maybe you need a shorter torso,’ Louis shot back without thinking.

Harry let out a loud bark of laughter that seemed to surprise even himself, immediately clapping one of his large hands over his mouth. Louis didn’t think he’d seen anything quite so adorable.

‘Did you want a drink or anything before you go?’ Harry asked a little coyly after he’d let his hand slip away from his face.

Louis knew it wasn’t right to say yes and he knew it could get him in a shit tonne of trouble if anyone found out, but it wasn’t like it would change the sample he had taken or whether or not Harry was guilty. The profile he’d managed to pull together on Harry wasn’t that of a psychopath so he knew he wouldn’t wake up in a shallow grave and it wasn’t like he was in a hurry to get back to the station. There was no harm in just one drink.

‘A cup of tea would be nice,’ he smiled, slotting the evidence, tweezers and scissors back into his bag.

‘I’ve got Yorkshire, if that’s alright?’ Harry asked, moving toward the kitchen.

Louis watched him walk away, his eyes disobediently falling to the small curve of his arse that he could just make out through the jogging bottoms.

‘That’s perfect.’


	5. Chapter 5

Louis had initially only planned to stay for one courteous cup of tea, but after he had watched Harry swaying his little hips mindlessly as he waited for the kettle to boil once, he had to see it again. And again and again. In fact, he ended up staying for four cups of tea, six chocolate digestives and the better half of a QI marathon.

‘No, I _swear_ I saw Stephen Fry on the train once!’ Harry insisted.

Louis rolled his eyes and set down his empty mug. 

‘Come on, Harry, think about it. Why would _Stephen Fry_ take the train?’ 

‘Why _wouldn’t_ he take the train?’ Harry nearly screeched. ‘The bloke has places to be, doesn’t he?’ 

‘But it’s Stephen Fry!’ Louis exclaimed, throwing his hands up animatedly. ‘He’s more likely to take a horse and carriage around London, not grotty public transport.’

Harry stared curiously at him as he sat at the other end of his sofa, shiny black shoed feet propped up on his coffee table.

‘Because he’s gay?’ he asked, tilting his head and trying not to laugh when Louis tossed his hair sassily in reply. 

‘No, you twat, because he’s a fucking legend. It’s not like you’ve ever heard anyone say that they saw Morgan Freeman on the bus to Sainsbury’s, is it?’

‘That’s because he lives in America and they don’t have Sainsbury’s there,’ Harry said, folding his arms across his chest triumphantly.

‘Smart arse,’ Louis muttered. ‘Doesn’t change the fact Stephen Fry wouldn’t take the train.’

‘I saw him with my own eyes though. He was reading The Daily Mail.’

Louis scoffed.

‘Well then it definitely wasn’t him, was it? As if Stephen Fry, one of the most intelligent people in the British entertainment industry, would read The Daily Mail. That’s like saying Dara O’Briain reads The Sun.’

Harry turned to face him properly, swinging his legs up onto the sofa so his bare feet sat in Louis’ lap. Louis’ hands instinctively went to rest on his ankles as they glared at each other playfully, Harry’s eyes narrowing before giving in.

‘Fine, maybe it wasn’t him,’ he conceded. 

Louis beamed at him. ‘See? I’m always right.’

Harry raised his eyebrow at him. 

‘Well I doubt that, but you win this one, Detective.’ 

He realised a split second after he said it that he probably shouldn’t have as Louis’ hands pulled away sharply from where they had been toying with the hem of his jogging bottoms.

‘Detective,’ Louis repeated, suddenly stiff.

‘Louis, y—‘

‘I have to go, Mr Styles.’

Harry’s heart sank. As soon as he became ‘Mr Styles’ everything else went right out the window.

‘Yeah, okay,’ he mumbled, staring down at his lap.

‘Could you uh…’

Harry looked up to see Louis gesturing awkwardly at where his feet were still rested on his lap. He felt like a complete idiot as he moved to tuck his legs underneath himself, pulling his hands up into his sleeves so he was as small as possible. He watched with sad childlike eyes as Louis stood up and adjusted his suit, collecting his bag with his body faced away from Harry.

‘How are you getting back to the station?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Walking. It’s how I got here,’ Louis stated, already marching away from the sofa. 

‘Did you want a lift? It’s a bit cold out there and it’s getting dar¬—‘

‘It’s only 5pm, Mr Styles, I’m sure I can manage,’ Louis snapped, glancing at him hastily before opening the door into the hallway. ‘I can show myself out.’

Even if Harry had the protest in him, it wouldn’t have been any good. Things turned so quickly between him and Louis, and he barely had a chance to move before he heard his own front door open and slam shut. He pulled a cushion to his chest and let the tears fall, hating himself for caring more about Louis than the life-ruining reason he came to his house in the first place.

-

Louis made quick work of dropping the sample off at the lab, chucking the small plastic bag at a bewildered Smith who instantly began with the stuttered formalities. He couldn’t bring himself to return them though, too intent on bolting himself in his office and spending the night curled up under his desk like a tame werewolf. All he wanted to do was stay there until he no longer associated the case with a dimpled smile and messy hair that had him dreaming of lazy days and ardent nights. Regrettably, going MIA for nearly five hours had its consequences and no sooner had he turned the lock was Liam banging on his door demanding to be let in. 

‘What do you want?’ 

He heard Liam’s exasperated sigh from the other side of the wood and could just imagine his expression. Sure enough, when he opened the door, his friend was standing there looking like a puppy who was fed up of his owner only pretending to throw the ball.

‘When are you going to pull yourself together on this one, Lou?’ he asked wearily, dropping himself onto the leather sofa.

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Louis answered, avoiding eye contact as he slouched over to his desk.

‘Don’t give me that. All you had to do was collect a sample and yet somehow you didn’t make it back to the station until gone half five.’

Louis shuffled the bits of paper in front of him, feeling Liam’s eyes boring into him like a disappointed father. These situations weren’t unfamiliar, but it felt so much worse given the events of the past year. There was also the fact that a small but indignant part of him felt like he wasn’t doing anything wrong with Harry, despite the way he had practically ran out on him. Not even the way Liam was watching him could make him regret those five hours, and the seed of hope resided firmly in his instinct no matter how many times he stared at the black and white print on paper. He pushed the image of Harry curled up and vulnerable in his living room to the back of his mind and continued with his façade.

‘I don’t know where you’re implying I went, Liam,’ he replied levelly. 

Liam huffed again.

‘Listen, Lou. You’re my best friend, but I —‘

‘Exactly, you’re my best friend so you should ju—‘

‘But I am also your superior!’ Liam continued loudly, speaking over Louis’s interruption in a stern voice. ‘And as your superior, I have to ask where you have been. Unfortunately, like I said, I am also your friend, which means I know you well enough to guess.’

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. As much as he didn’t feel any remorse over his afternoon with his suspect, he knew that Liam wouldn’t see it the way he did while he was still stuck fast in his opinion on the case. The only way he could end this situation was to come up with some bullshit excuse and show regret he didn’t feel.

‘Okay, fine. Yes, I was with Styles, but it won’t happen again ‘cause I know it wasn’t overly professional. I stayed for a cup of tea and we watched a bit of telly, but it was all for the sake of the case,’ he said casually, the lie building nicely on his tongue.

‘How is making friends with him doing the case any good, Louis?’ Liam asked sceptically. 

‘I’m building a rapport with him,’ Louis said as though it was obvious. ‘It’ll make him feel like he can trust me more, right? So once we have enough evidence, he —‘

‘We do have enough evidence,’ Liam cut in.

‘Fuck off do we,’ Louis scoffed. ‘All we have is the fact they used to be together and a sodding hair. That’s bugger all compared to what some people go to court with.’

‘What about how it was buried in _his_ garden?’

‘Why the hell would someone bury a body in a shallow grave in their own fucking vegetable patch? Styles is smart,’ he said, looking his friend dead in the eye as he spoke. ‘There’s also the fact we don’t even have a murder weapon despite having those spacemen scour the house.’

He topped off the last point with a victorious nod of the head, leaning back in his chair as Liam seemed to mentally flounder in front of him and come up empty.

‘Exactly, Liam. All we know is that he suffered several blows to the head, resulting in a depressed skull fracture and then haemorrhaged to death. We know that it was a blunt object and that whoever did it didn’t have anything impressive in terms of upper body strength, judging by the number of hits it took.’

‘Styles doesn’t look all that strong,’ Liam said staunchly.

Louis rolled his eyes, something he wouldn’t dare do in front of any of his other superiors.

‘Neither do a lot of people though. Besides, I think he’s packing a fair bit of muscle, it’s just disguised well.’

A small smirk crept onto Liam’s face for a moment, reminding Louis of their teen years. It was the same one he used to throw at Louis when someone fit would cross his vision and was usually followed with a nudge in the side and a comment like ‘don’t get a boner when I’m sat next to you’ or ‘don’t spunk yourself, Tommo’. That was over ten years ago though, and now it was gone before Louis’ nostalgia could hug him properly.

‘Well, we’ll see when we get the analysis back on the carpet fibre.’

Louis had almost forgotten about that. He was about to throw another offhanded remark out there, until he remembered what Harry had said before they had settled down with tea and biscuits. If he was honest, it was one of the reasons he had allowed himself to stay.

‘There’s a good chance it might not match, you know,’ he said, watching Liam’s expression change from surprised to curious to tired in all of about three seconds.

‘And why’s that? They’re both blue and —‘

‘Yes, yes, I’ve already heard about how Styles is clearly the only one in the whole city with a blue carpet,’ he said sarcastically. ‘But that doesn’t mean it’s the same one. Redecorated last week, he told me. That fibre could have been from before they split up.’

Liam appeared unimpressed, the exhaustion of having Louis as a best friend making him bring his legs up onto the sofa so he could lie down.

‘That doesn’t change anything, Lou. The fibre will either match or it won’t. Besides, even if it was an old fibre, how the hell would it have gotten between his front teeth?’

Louis shrugged. ‘That’s not really a question we’d have to worry ourselves with. We’ll know soon enough anyway.’

Liam decided to drop it there, too worn out to pursue Louis’ hopes for not guilty. All that mattered now was that he had gotten the evidence.

‘Yeah, Smith is always eager to please. I’m sure he’ll be done with it as quickly as possible,’ he said, letting his eyes fall closed.

Louis did so as well, images of Harry laughing and smiling at him as though he wasn’t being accused of murder immediately jumping in like they had just been waiting for him to shut his eyes.

‘Yeah, that guy certainly is odd. Bit keen,’ Louis mumbled, glad to fill the room with mindless talk of the lab rats so he could enjoy Harry’s dimples in the privacy of his own mind.

‘Think he fancies you,’ Liam said indifferently, though his eye had cracked open to catch Louis’ reaction.

Louis’ demeanour didn’t even shift, the statement barely registering with him as he remembered the way Harry’s fingers had grazed against his each time he’d handed him a fresh mug of tea and taken away the empty ones.

‘Who can blame him? Have you seen my arse?’ 

-

Louis eventually realised that his own bed would be comfier than his office floor and as soon as he had showered and slipped beneath the covers, his hand was automatically tucking itself into his boxers. He wasn’t sure if he was freely welcoming the fantasies now, but he was already there with Harry’s hands handcuffed behind his back, bending him over the interrogation table and fucking a slutty confession out of him. He came embarrassingly quickly, tugging himself roughly through his orgasm as Harry moaned his name in the same voice he had heard that morning. 

After that, he drifted into a contented sleep and woke up five minutes before his alarm which he took as a good omen for the day. He poked his head through the curtains, blinking against the unexpected bright sunshine. Sticking his hand out of the window, he felt it to be a surprisingly warm day for April and decided to ditch the suit jacket for the day. 

Instead he donned a pair of form-fitting grey trousers and an equally tight navy shirt, rolling the sleeves up as far as they would go. He picked up a tie, but took another look outside and hung it back up, keeping the top few buttons undone.

Louis smiled at himself in the mirror, glad that his night of sleep had left him with naturally tousled hair. He left it free of wax as it lay quite nicely as it was, fluffy and ruffled against his forehead – only awake for half an hour and it was already shaping up to be a good day. 

He grabbed his bag and some fruit, and took a leisurely stroll to work, giggling sillily to himself as he stuck the sticker from his Pink Lady apple to the front of his shirt. By the time he reached the station, the apple had depleted but his bright outlook had not. He waved at officers he didn’t even know and close to skipped down to the lab, eager to hear the results on the sample.

‘Morning, Smithy!’ he trilled, swinging into the room and promptly bashing into the mass spectrometer. ‘Woopsie.’

Tittering giddily, he looked around the lab expectantly, but he couldn’t see the familiar twitchy figure of the chief lab rat, nor were there any mini lab rats fiddling about with machines that confused Louis just looking at them. 

He wandered aimlessly, trying to isolate some kind of headquarters within the room where Smith may have left the results. He approached a desk with a family photograph propped up on it, striking gold as he recognised a younger and even more awkward looking Smith surrounded by a surprisingly attractive family. 

He began rifling through the various files and weird looking gadgets that littered the tabletop until he saw the name ‘Styles, Harry’ in bold print. Smiling to himself with the good feeling still seated inside him, he flicked through the pages, looking for the simple sheet of paper that condensed the results into something the less scientifically minded could understand.

‘Aha!’ Louis said out loud, feeling like a cheesy detective from one of the shows he used to watch when he still considered this job to be a pipe dream.

He pulled the paper confidently from within the sheaf and scanned it quickly.

-

It was like déjà vu when he found himself stood on Harry’s doorstep again that afternoon. This time he didn’t bother checking himself out in the window and knocked on the door straight away, determined to not come across as either pathetic or unprofessional. He saw a figure moving behind the glass, but when the door opened he wasn’t met with the stupidly gorgeous face of Harry Styles, but instead a bemused ginger guy with a guitar strapped behind his back.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked, studying Louis intently.

‘Yes, I’m Detective Inspector Louis Tomlinson,’ he said authoritatively, pulling his badge out of his pocket. ‘Is Harry Styles in?’

‘Nah, but he should be back soon,’ the guy said, nodding his okay at the badge. 

‘Thanks. Are you Niall?’ he asked, chancing a guess with the only other name Harry had ever mentioned.

The man laughed good-naturedly and stuck out his hand.

‘I’m Ed,’ he replied. ‘I’m the ginger one and Niall’s the Irish one. Remember that, Detective.’

Louis tried to keep his grin small as they shook hands, knowing it wasn’t professional to be so happy to be meeting one of his suspect’s friends.

‘Nice to meet you, Ed. Could you tell me where Mr Styles is?’

‘He’s just sorting out hours and stuff with his boss. You know, getting leave and shit for this Ryan thing.’

Louis just managed to stop himself from laughing, finding it amusing rather than insolent how relaxed Ed’s attitude was toward the case. He was about to let himself like the guy until something that shouldn’t have resembled jealousy stirred.

‘Are you Mr Styles’ boyfriend?’ he asked slowly.

Ed's eyes widened and Louis heard loud laughter, but it wasn’t from the man stood in front of him. 

‘He wishes,’ a voice cackled behind him. ‘But that fucker likes tits too much.’

Louis spun on the spot to see Harry’s face lit up with hilarity, loose curls dancing around his face gleefully. It gave him teenage butterflies and he nearly joined in, but then he remembered why he was here and set his Detective expression firmly. He hated the way the light left Harry’s face as he sobered up and he recognised that even he didn’t have enough willpower to take it away completely. Ignoring the sour pang he felt over what could potentially be a repeat of history, he took a step closer.

‘I’m so sorry, Harry. The fibre matched.’


	6. Chapter 6

Harry’s face paled and his hands started shaking. ‘B-but that doesn’t really mean anything, right?’

Louis wished it didn’t. He wished he could have pretended he hadn’t seen the results but, when he had turned around with the damned piece of paper in his hand, Liam had been standing in the doorway, watching him as though he knew he wanted to tear it up. Louis was under orders.

‘I’m afraid it does mean something. This fibre, along with the hair and your previous circumstance with Ryan, make it—‘

‘Don’t forget he was in your garden, mate,’ Ed cut in, earning a surprised look from Louis and a half-hearted glare from Harry. ‘Sorry.’

‘I think it’s best you left myself and Mr Styles alone for a while,’ Louis said pointedly.

Ed shrugged and slouched out of the house, patting Harry on the back as he walked past him. ‘Good luck, mate.’

Harry didn’t seem to have it in him to say anything in response, instead turning his attention back to Louis, looking more forlorn that he had ever seen him.

‘Does this mean I’m under arrest?’

Louis attempted a smile, but Harry’s despair was cutting through him and it ended up as a grimace.

‘Not quite. There are still some analyses to be run, but the evidence against your favour means we need to keep an eye on you. You won’t be arrested yet, but you will be kept under surveillance.’

Harry stared at him blankly and Louis cleared his throat. He knew that this next part was a test that Liam had set for him. If he didn’t manage this task then he would end up right back where he started, shuffling papers and wondering why he had let his career fall victim to his heart again.

‘It means that you’ll be under a kind of house arrest.’ He hesitated. ‘And I’ll be there.’

A tiny smile tugged at Harry’s lips, but it was gone almost as quickly.

‘So I’m not allowed to leave my house and you’re going to be watching my every move?’

Louis nodded regretfully. ‘It’s just a precaution,’ he added. ‘Like I said, there are still tests to be run. This isn’t the end, Harry.’

Louis mentally flinched as the name rolled off his tongue, but he didn’t have it in him to correct himself when he saw some of the colour return to Harry’s face.

‘I guess we should go inside then,’ he said resignedly, slumping past Louis to get to his front door.

If Louis’ eyes lingered on the way Harry’s jeans clung to his slender legs then he wasn’t going to admit it.

He followed Harry into the living room, fortunately able to skirt around having to come up with something to say when the phone started to ring.

‘Shit, sorry, let me just get that,’ Harry mumbled, tossing his coat onto the sofa and jogging over to the landline. ‘Hello?’

Louis let his bag fall off his shoulder by the sofa and sat himself down in the same place he had done the day before.

‘Oh, hi.’ Harry’s voice sounded even wearier and Louis wondered who he was talking to. As if he could read his mind, Harry put his hand over the speaker and turned to him. ‘It’s my mum, haven’t really gotten a chance to explain what’s going on yet.’ He waited until Louis nodded his understanding before removing his hand. ‘Yeah, how’ve you been?’

Louis felt sorry for him, watching as the worry lines creased his forehead and wondered if they’d be a permanent feature by the time this case was over.

Harry sighed heavily, bringing the phone over to the sofa and sitting at the opposite end with his legs folded underneath himself. ‘Who told you? Was it Niall or Caroline?’ Friends Louis couldn’t put faces to. ‘Oh, Eleanor. Yeah, sorry I didn’t tell you about it… didn’t want to worry you.’ 

Louis could hear the concerned natter that was distinct as a mother’s and wondered how his mum would react to the same news. 

‘ _What_?’ Harry nearly shrieked, making Louis jump and snap his attention to his shocked face. ‘Of course I didn’t do it! Mum, how could you even ask me that? I’m your _son_.’ His voice went from adamant to sad in lightning speed. ‘I could never hurt Ryan.’

Louis didn’t realise how much he had oriented his body toward Harry until he had to turn away awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable seeing the tears well in Harry’s eyes.

‘No, yeah, not yet. Under surveillance at home,’ he heard Harry mumble, catching the movement of a sleeved wrist wiping away tears. He was surprised to hear a soft chuckle and then, ‘Yeah, like Galileo,’ and it made Louis smile a little as well.

‘Urm, I don’t know actually. Hang on.’ Harry reached out and tapped Louis on the arm where his shirt sleeve was rolled up, making him jerk like he had just received a static shock. ‘Am I allowed visitors? My mum wants to know.’

Louis stared dumbly into Harry’s sad green eyes for a couple seconds before he realised what he was doing and dipped his hand into his bag for the documents Liam had given him. He scanned down the checklist and cleared his throat, hoping to sound authoritative but fully aware that it just made him sound like he needed a Strepsil.

‘Yes, you’re allowed up to two visitors at a time and I must be present throughout,’ he confirmed. When he looked up again Harry had a sweet smile on his face like Louis had just pointed out the silver lining to this whole horrific thundercloud. He also realised Harry’s fingers were still resting on his bare arm. ‘Urm…’ He looked down, a little fascinated by the contrast of the paleness against his own tanned skin. 

‘Thanks, Lou—‘ Harry stuttered a bit, pulling his hand away. ‘Detective.’

Louis tried not to admit to the way his stomach had flipped a little at Harry’s slip-up. He nodded stiffly and stuffed the file back into his bag, folding his arms and subconsciously stroking over the skin where Harry’s fingertips had pressed.

‘The detective says you can visit,’ Harry spoke into the phone, eyes falling from Louis’ face to the open few buttons of his shirt before turning away. ‘Maybe not for a few days yet though,’ he added. ‘Who knows, this could all blow over by the end of the week and then I could come visit you instead.’ He sounded hopeful but it wasn’t hard to hear how fake it was.

Louis turned his attention to the wall of photographs behind the television as Harry continued to speak softly with his mum, picking him out amongst group shots of people he didn’t recognise and finding younger versions in family snaps, holding tightly onto the woman currently on the other end of the phone.

‘Detective Tomlinson.’

His head twitched in the direction of Harry’s voice, thinking he was being spoken only to find that Harry wasn’t even looking at him. His head was ducked and if Louis wasn’t mistaken there was a light blush on his cheeks as he pressed the phone even closer to his ear.

‘I don’t think that’s really important here, Mum,’ Harry muttered quietly. ‘What? I can’t. What do you mean why? He’s right here. It’s Louis.’ He covered his mouth with his other hand to try and prevent Louis from listening in, but that only made Louis’ ears prick up even more. ‘Yes, of course that’s a guy’s name. Mum. Why’s that important? Okay, well, he is. _Mum_! Have you forgotten why you rang me in the first place?’

Louis could feel the heat rising up his neck as he cottoned on that Harry’s mum was asking about him, but he didn’t miss the irony of Harry reprimanding her when Harry himself seemed to have forgotten multiple times that Louis was around to investigate him as a suspect in favour of flirting with him. 

‘Okay, Mum, I have to go now. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’ll let you know how things go. Just think positively, yeah?’ Harry stood up, walking the phone back over to its base as he ended the conversation. ‘I’m fine, really. It’s all just a big misunderstanding and I… well, I’ll work it all out.’ He sounded so tired and Louis had the highly unprofessional urge to find a giant fleecy blanket and wrap him up in it. ‘I love you too, Mum. Bye.’

He clicked the phone back into place and came slowly back over to the sofa, standing at the end of it and looking at Louis apologetically.

‘Sorry about that. She can go on a bit.’

Louis waved his hand dismissively. ‘It’s fine, I would have been more worried if she didn’t. You know… considering.’

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ Harry shrugged, looking somewhat indifferent. ‘Did you want a cup of tea or anything?’

Louis almost said no, but then he remembered that he was here permanently until he was called away so it didn’t matter how many cups of tea he drank.

‘That’d be great, thanks,’ he smiled. ‘No s—‘

‘No sugar,’ Harry finished for him. He gave a little shrug and a smile. ‘I remember.’ Louis gaped at him and Harry laughed. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Detective, you were only here yesterday.’

Louis blushed, feeling silly for being shocked – or was it flattered? – and ducked his head down, making out that he was texting someone so he wouldn’t have to watch Harry shake his head at him, still smiling.

He aimlessly pressed buttons, going through his settings and turning alarms on and off, until he accidentally almost rejected an incoming call. His screen flashed suddenly to a picture of a ten-year-old Liam dressed in a police uniform as ‘Single Ladies’ blared loudly, making him jump. He heard Harry laugh from the kitchen and looked over to see him putting his hand up as directed by the lyrics, but he looked away when he started gyrating. 

He pressed ‘answer’ and adopted the most professional tone he had in him. ‘DI Tomlinson speaking.’

‘Hey, Lou, it’s me.’ Liam sounded flustered which made Louis uneasy. ‘Got some bad news.’

His stomach churned. ‘How bad?’

Liam sighed and Louis could imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in the same way he used to do when they were kids and he was trying to concentrate on a test. ‘Remember how I said I’d be able to send another officer over later on this evening so you could sleep and do it in shifts?’

Louis could see where this was going. ‘Yes…’ 

‘Well, there’s been a problem.’ He paused reluctantly. ‘As it turns out we don’t have any spare officers who’ll be able to cover you.’

‘How can there be no one?’ Louis asked incredulously. ‘There has to be someone available.’

‘It’s not so much that there’s no one available, it’s just that we have a lack of volunteers whose normal hours fall into the times needed,’ Liam explained. ‘We’re putting a rush on the lab work so there’s a chance you won’t have to stay at Styles’ overnight, but I’m afraid you might have to do an all-nighter. I can pop over to yours and put together an overnight bag and bring it around, and then I’ll give you tomorrow off when someone can cover for you.’

Louis didn’t say anything, eyes following Harry as he pottered about making the tea. His t-shirt rode up when he reached for the sugar and Louis smiled because he was wearing black boxers from Topman as well.

‘Lou? Are you still there?’

He shook himself and went to stand so he was staring at the wall and couldn’t see the kitchen. ‘Sorry, yeah, I’m here. So you’re saying I have to stay up all night? Doesn’t sound very orthodox.’

‘Like you haven’t done it before,’ said Liam, but Louis could tell he wasn’t happy about it either. ‘And you might not necessarily have to stay up. You trust this guy so much, right? Just sleep on the sofa and hope he doesn’t bludgeon you like he bludgeoned his ex-boyfriend.’

‘You can’t say that,’ Louis hissed, feeling even more angered to hear the accusation when there was a baby photo of Harry in his eye-line. ‘Just… just don’t say things like that, okay? We don’t know for sure.’

‘Louis…’

‘Liam, please. I know you might not trust me after last year but I just have a feeling about this guy, okay?’

Liam sighed. ‘I do trust you, Lou. You just… I don’t know. Would it be cheesy to say that you just love too much?’

‘Yeah, it would. And it wouldn’t be relevant because I don’t love Styles, I just believe him.’ He could hear Harry humming to himself as he tipped the teabags into the bin and leant his forehead against the wall. ‘If he turns out to be guilty then you can remind me every day for the rest of my life that I was wrong, okay?’

Liam gave a short resigned laugh. ‘Deal.’ And then another sigh. ‘But seriously, you’re a sterling detective and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes, and I definitely don’t want to spend the next few months trying to coax you into putting on your underwear again.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Louis replied, running a hand through his hair. ‘It won’t come to that.’

‘I hope not. I know you believe in Styles, but I believe in you as well, you and your second chance.’

‘My second chance,’ Louis repeated. ‘I’ll do you proud, boss.’

There was a slight pause and then, ‘You’ve always made me proud, Lou.’ 

Louis smiled, feeling unworthy and choked up at the same time. He was lucky to have a best friend like Liam, shoving him when he needed shoving and holding him when he needed holding.

‘You too,’ he managed, with a cough to disguise his emotion. ‘Listen, I’d better get off the phone now, so let me know if anyone becomes free, yeah?’

‘Of course, I’ll drop you a text later on to see how you’re getting on. Good luck, Detective.’

‘In a bit.’ Louis ended the call and slid his phone into his pocket, letting out a long breath.

‘Second chance?’

Louis swivelled back to face the room, seeing Harry perched on the edge of the sofa and looking at him inquisitively with the two steaming mugs of tea set on the coffee table in front of him.

‘Shouldn’t be eavesdropping, Mr Styles,’ he admonished, but he didn’t really have it in him to be too stern especially with the prospect of an all-nighter ahead.

‘You’re the one who stayed in the room,’ Harry challenged, picking up his mug and hiding half of his face behind it.

He looked playful and no matter how good it was to see him in high spirits after talking to his mum, Louis needed to put a stop to any antics before the boundaries became blurred and he ended up with Harry’s feet in his lap again.

He sat himself down at the other end of the sofa and rested his forearms on his thighs, lacing his fingers together. He could feel Harry’s eyes on him, but when he spoke he found himself talking to the carpet instead of returning the gaze.

‘Listen, Mr Styles.’ He cleared his throat, finding it oddly awkward to address him in such a way. ‘Maybe if we had met under different circumstances we could have been friends or… or something, but, as shit luck would have it, we met under these ones. I really don’t want a repeat of what happened yesterday as that kind of familiarity can jeopardise the validity of the case, so I think our relationship should remain professional. I already feel like I have always been somewhat softer on you than any other murder suspects under my investigation and I’m not going to suddenly turn hostile, but the line must be drawn somewhere.’ He fidgeted his thumbs a bit before looking up at Harry, who was watching him carefully. ‘I trust that you’ll cooperate and keep things between us strictly business and relative to the case?’

Harry didn’t say anything at first, keeping his eyes on Louis’ face like he was studying him or trying to figure out a way around it all.

‘Okay,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s just that I —‘

‘No, Mr Styles,’ Louis cut in. ‘I know you seem to be taking a fairly lackadaisical approach to these allegations, but I —‘

‘Wait, wait, what?’ Harry interrupted. ‘You think I’m being _lackadaisical_? Just because I’m not breaking down in tears at every given chance it doesn’t mean I don’t care about what’s happening. You don’t watch me 24/7, I could be a mess.’

Louis felt a peculiar flare of concern and looked at him curiously. ‘Well maybe today I’ll get a chance to see what the real Harry Styles is like then.’

Something distressed flickered across Harry’s face but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, leaving Louis wondering just how Harry was dealing with the situation outside of the minor glitches he had witnessed so far.

‘Yeah, maybe.’ Harry nibbled his lip like he was trying to remember something, his expression shifting to something lighter. ‘Wait! So yeah, as I was about to say before you started accusing me of not giving a shit, what was that about a second chance?’

Louis sighed and leant back into the sofa, rubbing his forehead. ‘Mr Styles, what did I just say about boundaries?’

Harry scooted around until he was sat cross-legged and facing him, looking a bit cheeky and a bit triumphant.

‘Ahh, but, technically, my question _is_ professional because you were talking to your boss, right? So it’s about your job ergo about the case ergo relevant ergo you have no reason not to answer.’

‘Is your overuse of the word _ergo_ a reason not to answer?’ Louis asked tiredly.

‘Am I wrong though?’ Harry pressed, smiling like a naughty child.

They were both aware that he was pushing it, but that weak, weak part of Louis that just wanted to give in and share a packet of biscuits was having more control over his reasoning. Louis couldn’t deny that he found it interesting how Harry seemed able to just push the fact that he was being accused of killing his ex to the back of his mind and pursue silly things instead. 

However, Louis would deny that he liked being one of those silly things.

‘Okay, fine.’ He knew this share might come back to bite him in the arse, but the way Harry was leaning across the empty space between them sort of knocked that thought out of his head. ‘If you must know, I was suspended recently so this case – your case – is my second chance, my way of getting back in the superintendent’s good books.’ He dragged his hand down his face and tried to push away the thought of what Cowell would do if he knew how chummy he had gotten with their prime suspect. ‘I’ve been doing paperwork for what feels like a lifetime and before that I had to work as a waiter for a year just so I wouldn’t go mad. If I fuck up with this case in the same way I fucked up with the last one then they might just take everything away from me.’

‘What case was that?’ Harry asked, leaning forward expectantly. ‘The one that got you suspended?’

Louis closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the sofa. ‘It should have been an easy one.’ He laughed a little bitterly. ‘Just like Liam thought yours would be.’ 

He heard Harry make some kind of responding sound of acknowledgement and carried on. ‘It was just a drug bust really, pretty straightforward. Mostly just marijuana but there was some cocaine involved which was why we were keener to get the guy. He’d been selling it all over the place, including at house parties to minors so we were pretty chuffed with how easy it was to catch him.’ 

‘Was he scary looking?’ Harry interjected eagerly. ‘On TV the drug dealers always look really rough and stuff.’

Louis smiled wryly. Harry sounded so young, so naïve and just so… innocent.

‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘He wore a leather jacket and had a nasty smoking habit, but obviously that wasn’t the nastiest of his habits. He had stubble too.’

‘You have stubble sometimes,’ Harry pointed out. Louis turned to look at him, catching the pink on his cheekbones.

‘Very observant, Mr Styles,’ he said amusedly.

‘No, I mean it’s just that stubble isn’t really a defining feature of druggies,’ Harry explained, looking flustered. ‘Unless you deal a bit of Class A on the side that you’re not telling me about,’ he added with a smirk.

Louis rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Okay, so what did you do to get yourself suspended?’ Harry asked, moving on with the inquisition. ‘Did you grab yourself a handful of the guy’s stash or something?’  
Louis snorted because Harry was very close. ‘Not his stash, no.’

Louis could almost hear the cogs turning in Harry’s head as he slowly came to the realisation, his green eyes suddenly widening dramatically until he looked utterly – and ironically – scandalised. ‘You _didn’t_!’

‘I did,’ Louis admitted with a shrug that said there was nothing he could do about it now. ‘Several times and in several places, and I regret each and every fuck because he managed to convince me that he wasn’t guilty, and I ended up persuading my boss the same thing because I thought I loved the twat. He was excused and found the next day selling cocaine to a bunch of sixteen year olds.’ Louis pursed his lips, thinking of how insincerely apologetic the bastard had been when he was brought in wearing handcuffs and the t-shirt Louis had leant him a couple days earlier. ‘Got the worst bollocking of my life for that.’

The story hung in the air for a minute or two before Harry started talking again.

‘Jesus,’ he breathed. ‘No wonder you’re trying to swerve me.’

‘Mmm,’ Louis hummed, becoming distant. 

Truth was, he hadn’t given too much thought to the details of the incident that had led to his suspension for a while now, and he still wasn’t sure if he was exactly over the fucker who had torn down his heart and his career.

‘Are you okay?’ Harry asked timidly, looking like he might want to pat him reassuringly but thinking better of it. ‘You deserve someone better than a drug dealer, you know.’

Louis found himself smiling. ‘And you think suspected murderers are better?’

It was a question that could have gone either way, but fortunately Harry grinned at him.

‘Now, now, Detective. That’s not very professional, is it?’

Louis flicked his fringe out of his eyes. ‘Don’t you be giving me lip, boy.’

‘It’d still be less than what you’d give that druggie,’ Harry retorted mischievously. 

Louis laughed and felt himself relax a bit more into the sofa cushions.

‘Trust me, Mr Styles, the only thing I’d give Zayn Malik today is a punch in the fucking dick.’


End file.
